Push Shots
by empousai
Summary: Orphe thinks about his and Ed's past - over a game of pool.


title: Push Shots

fandom: meine liebe

pairings: orphe/ed? they might just be really good friends too ; yeah, riiiight.

notes: push shots - a term in pool. it's when you touch the ball longer than it takes you to shoot

orphe pov

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**Push Shots**

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It was a seedy bar, and we were all well advised not to set a foot into it. The entrance door was heavy, yet it had cracks from bar fights and even a few indentions where swords or bullets had tried to pierce the worn wood. The walls outside were a dirty white, since no one who didn't look for such an establishment would set a foot in it anyway. Supposedly, the owner had been a rich man once, but ever since the town's wealth had increased, the business had been dragging. There were rumors about stabbings, ruthless murder and fights over women, cards, or beer. The stains on the floor all had their own history, especially the darker ones that looked like they could've been blood. I knew a lot of those stories, and had seen some of those rumored fights myself. I'd even shed my own blood on the hardwood floor.

Fifteen ball in the corner.

We had never been caught, not once in all those years we'd been standard customers there. We shed our uniforms at the door and became commoners, just for one night a week. We laughed at bawdy jokes with the drunkards, we exchanged flirtatious gestures with the barmaids, and we fought for our right to be there. Over the time, we became like furniture on Friday nights - like the guy in the corner by the door who would always get cranky after his tenth ale, who slept himself sober in the same spot he would start up again the next day. The guy who never left, until one morning he didn't wake up and they had to pry him off the chair to get him to the coroner. We almost didn't notice either, because once the old geezer was one, another took his place.

Ace in the side.

The desolate feeling of the place did nothing to keep us away. No, we soaked it up. We bathed in their stories, in their impoverished lives; yes, we used them. We used them to get away from the Academy, even if it was only for a few hours. They became our eyes to the town. We knew what was going on, what people thought. Sometimes we saw Isaac, and I often wondered if he approved of what we did. Not that it mattered. I already knew what he thought of me, or Lui for that matter. We just greeted each other with a polite nod and a smile. And occasionally, he stayed to watch. Because for all the more or less honorable reasons we had for going to that district, there was one far more intriguing thing luring us in. We had a good reason to be there.

Twelve, cross side

Ed had felt lonely in the beginning, with all those people shunning him for the bastard he was. He distanced himself from them as much as they were going out of their ways to make him uncomfortable. Letters, taunts, strenuous silences when he entered - and he pretended it didn't bother him. He didn't care what they thought, as long as he had me there to be with.

Thirteen.

Like it had always been his nature, he distracted himself. When he wasn't in the conservatory or taking walks with me, he played the piano or hung around in the kitchen, playing with the cook's little daughter. There were many sides to Eduard von Braunschweig that we couldn't even fathom. Gradually, after a few months, he seemed to suddenly thaw. His smiles became more alive, and when I asked him if something had happened, he just grinned and waved it off. Something wonderful, yes. It was one Saturday morning that I caught him sneaking into the Academy with an air of smoke and alcohol around him. Ed didn't care much for either of those things - something I just knew - so I got curious. And maybe I became a little afraid, too. He had always seemed different from us to a point. He didn't see himself the way we saw him, and I thought that maybe, someone had whisked him away, that maybe someone had seen in him what he saw in himself. He had promised to stay by my side forever, but I had always been afraid that one day he would leave.

Ten.

The next Friday, I followed him. Naoji used to say that there was nothing Ed couldn't do, and after watching him out there in the seedy part of town, sliding through the masses like he'd been born there, I could only agree. We went down the streets and alleys, to that bar the students of the Academy only knew from afar. At the entrance, he turned and smiled at me. Of course, he'd known all along that I'd been there. An inviting gesture was all it took to introduce me to a new world. I asked him what we were doing there, but he just smiled and put a finger to his lips. Let it surprise you. He'd never been quiet, but at night, when all the lights were gone and no one was there to watch his behavior for oddities, he became more real. More the Ed he would have been if our status-oriented comrades hadn't ruined him.

Fourteen in the side.

And there it was, my new mother's breast. It was a disreputable bar he led me to, but I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, so I followed. I watched his attitude change at the door - that heavy wooden door with its indentions, nooks and bullet wounds. A barmaid waved her hello and the bartender greeted us with a smile. It seemed so alien at that moment, to be greeted without having met those people before. But apparently Ed had worked his magic on these people as well. He went straight to the back, making sure I was still behind him with a glance and a wink over his shoulder.

Nine.

That night, I was shown that there was a world where Ed didn't have to hide his peasant's ditties, the energetic dances, or his wild hand gestures. Where his smile lit up when a new opponent challenged him - not with a sword or guns - the nobility's way - but with a cue stick. He set up a rack and winked at me before placing the cue ball on the table. The gesture of him smoothing the queue with a cloth seemed like a caress to a lover. The opening shot was like the first beat to a song, and the first time was like watching a dance. I had never played before, being too busy trying to grow up before my time to learn responsibility. He announced his shots, took money with a smile and waved it at the bartender to call for a round. It wasn't so much about winning, as it was about confirming to himself that he was there for a reason. That he could be at Rosenstolz Academy and still be himself.

"Eight, across. Game."

And when I look at him now, as he leans gracefully over the pool table to sink the last ball into the corner he called out, I have to smile. My fears had never come true after all.

"You didn't leave me anything."

He just smiles and shrugs in that way that always make me want to roll my eyes in return. "You seemed in thought."

I walk over to his side to hug him. He'll stay by my side forever.

"Yeah, I was."

I'm glad I followed him that night. It opened my eyes. This is the Ed I want to see, not the one hiding his songs, his dances, or his manners.

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End file.
